


A Thing I Never Thought I'd Write

by Idzzdi



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, mpreg is a regular thing here okay?, no nastyness - just the cute stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2542931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idzzdi/pseuds/Idzzdi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> “Did you just call me being pregnant inconvenient?” Harry asks, blinking at Nick in disbelieve as he hands over his credit card.</em>
  <br/>
  <em> “I'm not even gonna comment on that,” Nick says with a sigh, thanks the lady who hands them their shopping bag and Harry his credit card.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>or; harry discovers that he's been sick in the morning one too many times and takes a pregnancys test. and well, things get a bit out of control..</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thing I Never Thought I'd Write

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashleytet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleytet/gifts).



> Sooooooo. I had mpreg as a limit and didn't really want to write it.. But here we are, SURPRISE!  
> I don't know how this happened or if it's any good, so. Yeah, I hope you like this, the prompt didn't say much beside it being mpreg, so I hope I got it somehow the way you like it.
> 
> Also, obviously mpreg isn't a thing. But in this fic it is, because making it a "normal" thing seemed to be the easiest way to write it, without getting into the rather nasty details. So let's just pretend. :)
> 
> Last but not least: Huge shoutout to me beta [Nicole](http://heartbreaklou.tumblr.com/), who helped me with the edits and everything :)

++

  
The screen shows two little plus signs and Harry is about to have a nervous breakdown. Louis is laughing hysterically, sitting on the bathtub next to Harry.

"Your face!" he exclaims, holding his stomach with how hard he's laughing. When all he gets in return is Harry's blank stare his laughter fades, gently putting a hand on Harry's knee.

"This is good, right?" he asks, squeezing Harry's thigh affectionately. Harry's mouth is dry and tastes stale as he tries to speak. He swallows hard and then clears his throat hoarsely.

"Dunno," he rasps, looking at Louis helplessly. All laughter has left Louis' face, serious and calm now.

"Haz," he begins, pulling the younger boy into his arms. "You want this, don't you? You always go on about it; being a dad and all."

"Yeah, no," Harry rasps, carefully laying a tentative hand over his lower stomach. It had been a _joke_. A joke because he had felt sick too many times in the mornings and Louis had given him a half concerned grin and told him to take a pregnancy test. Harry only ran along with it to get Louis to shut up about how Harry was getting chubby and _surely_ pregnant and well now.. Now he actually _is_ pregnant.

Which is basically a miracle in and of itself because he and Nick rarely ever fuck without a condom. Actually they only ever do when they're piss drunk and too desperate to remember that they need protection. So far they've always gotten away with it, never in the need to discuss the possibility of having a child.

Harry wants children, he knows that for sure. But he knows Nick doesn't feel ready for the challenge of being a dad just yet. And Harry just turned twentyfour, things with the band had slowly winded down to where they produce music in their own time, writing and recording music as they go rather than popping out new album ever year.

So they have time to wait. Technically.

"What-" Harry starts, clearing his throat again. "What if Nick, he- doesn't want- I mean.." Harry babbles helplessly, still staring down at the positive pregnancy test in his hand.

"What, no," Louis says right away, holding Harry a little tighter. "He wants this, he wants _you_."

"Nick doesn't want to be a dad," Harry replies, shaking his head violently, feeling sick again all the sudden.  
"With you, he does."

"Not yet, though!"

"Well, he's got nine months to get ready and prepared," Louis says, squeezing Harry's side before pulling back. He lets his hand linger on Harry's back for a moment, comforting and warm.

"More like eight or seven," Harry whispers, gnawing on his bottom lip.

"We'll get that checked," Louis promises, getting up from the bathtub. "I'll ring for a good doctor right away and we'll get you examined. And then a flight back to London, yes? 's not the kind of news you wanna break on the phone, is it?"

"No," Harry agrees, letting out a deep breath. He has to tell Nick. Shaking his head he tries to get the thought out of his head. One battle at a time. He should probably to get up now. Throw away the pregnancy test. Go find Louis from where Harry can already hear him speaking on the phone with someone.  
One battle at a time. He can do this.

"Louis!" he calls from his room, looking through his suitcase. They're at his house in LA and even though they meant to stay for longer, three weeks in total, to write songs and relax for a bit, Harry hadn't be arsed to unpack just yet. Not like he would have in he next week and a half.

"Yes, babe?" Louis calls back, padding down the hallway and appearing in the doorway a moment later.  
Harry is stood in the middle of the room, frowning down at his suitcase. He holds his favorite pair of black jeans up against him, trying to stretch them across his hips, but they've definitely gotten wider.

"Oh Haz," Louis sighs, taking the jeans from Harry's hands, squeezing his hand tightly. It doesn't have anything to do with Harry's wobbly lower lip and his eyes are _not_ teary, thank you very much. Louis grabs a random pair of sweatpants from Harry's suitcase and hands them to Harry, taking the jeans instead, somewhat folding them with a small smile.

"We'll save those for in nine months, okay?" he says carefully and Harry hums sadly, fingers digging into the fabric of the sweatpants.

"Put them on, love, Cal recommended a doc for you and we'll go see her, yeah?"

Harry nods slowly, blinking a few too many times as he pulls on the sweatpants. Louis stays in the room, pulling a sweatshirt and some socks for Harry out of the suitcase as well. Harry puts all the clothes on obediently, eyeing the jeans on the floor longingly.

"I was wearing those just yesterday. They were tight, but I thought it was because I was getting fat," he mumbles aimlessly.

"Well, luckily it's just pregnancy," Louis says with a laugh and a wink. Harry feels like throwing up.

" _Just_ pregnancy," he repeats tonelessly.

"Nine months and you'll be back to your usual six-pack beach body, don't worry," Louis rants on, like the bit of a bump Harry is sporting is his biggest problem right now.

  
~  
  
After Harry goes to see the doctor the only feeling left in his body is pure happiness. He had seen the _baby_ in his stomach in the ultrasound. It was the probably greatest and weirdest thing he had ever seen. An actual living thing in his stomach.

The doctor gave him a wide smile and print outs from the ultrasound to show his friends and Nick. She told him that he is thirteen weeks along and assured him that he is fine to fly back home. He has to see a doctor again after sixteen weeks unless he experiences any of the symptoms listed on a long check list that Harry got to take with him as well.

Louis squeezes him tightly when he gets back from he doctor, gushing over the ultrasound pictures for a while and then booking a flight together with Harry to fly back home the next day.

Harry texts Nick that night to let him know that he's coming home early. When Nick replies and asks if everything is alright or if he fought with Louis and if he needs to " _skin tomlinson alive????_ " Harry only replies with an " _everything's ok_ ". He can't bring himself to hit the "we need to talk"-line because that'll only make Nick worry in advance and Harry would like it much better if Nick were in a good mood for the talk they were going to have.

The next day on the plane Harry feels sick for the first time ever on a flight. Louis is sitting next to him, petting his thigh comfortingly, but it doesn't do much to calm the unwelcoming swoopy feeling in his stomach.

"What if he hates me?" Harry asks in a frenzy as Louis tries to get him to gulp down a bit of water to sooth his upset stomach.

"He doesn't _hate_ you, god Harry, is this the pregnancy hormones already?"

"He's going to hate the baby," Harry rants on like Louis hadn't even said anything. "I can't lose it, Lou. I love it. I love it already!"

"I know, babe," Louis says, bringing the cup of water back up to Harry's lips. "That's alright. Nick's gonna love the baby, too. It's all going to be fine."

  
~  
  
When Harry lands at Heathrow airport he says goodbye to Louis and they grab separate cabs to go home. Harry heads to Nick's, or rather _their_ flat. Harry still has his own on the other side of London, but it's more of an investment rather than an actual room to live in. It does have furniture and all, but Harry hasn't been there in a couple of months at least. He doesn't dare to think about staying there if Nick kicks him out with the kid.

That thought gets him worked up enough that he needs to use his inhaler in the back of the cab before climbing out and grabbing his bags to drag them up the stairs to Nick's flat. He drops his bags in the entryway, toes of his shoes and hands straight to the couch.

" _I'm home._ "

He texts Nick and then flops onto his side, cradling his hands around his stomach protectively as he waits.

A _baby_ , god.

Nick texts back that he will be home soon and not even Harry's rapidly beating heart can prevent him from the jet-lag taking over, lulling him into sleep.

He wakes up not much later to keys rattling in the lock. His pulse skyrockets right away as he scrambles up to sit, breathing heavily.

"Babe?" Nick calls through the hallway and Harry can hear him bump into at least one of his suitcases. He can't reply though and only waits for Nick to stumble into the living room.

"There you are," he says as he comes to a halt in the doorway. Their eyes meet and Harry can't help but feel lighter immediately. A smile breaks across his face and Nick wears a matching one, taking two quick steps forward. Harry gets up from the couch as well, stumbling into Nick's awaiting arms.

"Hey love," he mumbles happily, pulling Harry closer for a moment before leaning back the tiniest bit to press their lips together. They kiss softly and Nick cradles Harry's face into his hands, running his thumbs over Harry's cheeks.

"Missed you," Harry mumbles helplessly, pressing closer into Nick. Nick goes with it, hands running down Harry's thighs and tapping to get Harry to wrap them around him. Harry is halfway pushing Nick down into the couch before he remembers the reason for his early return and involuntarily stills immediately. Nick keeps kissing down his jaw for a moment before he halts as well, carding his hands through Harry's curls.

"You okay?" he hums, pecking Harry's lips and frowning when Harry just keeps staring forward.

"We need to talk," he rushes out before his brain can catch up with his mouth.

"Okay," Nick says slowly, letting his hands settle on Harry's shoulder before thinking differently about it and lowering them to Harry's hips.

"Did something happen?" he asks tentatively as Harry keeps quiet. There is silence for a moment before Harry slowly nods. Nick waits for a moment, looking down at Harry expectantly, but Harry can only look down at his own fingers, awkwardly intertwined between their bodies.

"Something bad?" Nick then asks and Harry's breath catches in his throat.

"'s not bad to me," Harry mumbles carefully, still unable to look up at Nick. He can feel his confusion though as his fingers nudge Harry's hips a bit too carefully.

"What is it then, babe? You're scaring me a bit here," Nick admits, sounding softer and calmer than normally. Harry swallows hard, pressing his fingers together more tightly to keep them from shaking. Nick takes his hands off Harry's hips and reaches towards him, circling his fingers around Harry's jittery wrists.

"Haz?" he asks again, softly gripping Harry's chin and angling it upwards until their eyes meet. For a moment they share a look and Harry can see Nick's confusion and worry and he wants to clear it all up but he can't speak. His mouth is dry again, his lips heavy and he _can't speak_.

Instead of using his words Harry tangles his fingers free and reaches for Nick's other hand, cupping it softly in his own and guiding in closer to his stomach. Nick lets him and watches quietly as Harry presses Nick's palm to the bare skin of his lower stomach where his shirt had rucked up a bit.

Harry watches Nick's face closely and he can tell the exact moment when Nick finally understands. His mouth twitches and his eyebrows rise, blinking confusedly up at Harry for a moment and then back down towards where his hand is still pressed against Harry's stomach. Harry takes his hand off of Nick's and holds his breath.

“Oh.”

 _Oh_.

That is all Nick has to say. His mouth hangs open the tiniest bit and he stopped breathing altogether, the soft gust of even breath against Harry's skin gone. Gone, just like all of Harry's confidence when Nick's hand slowly slides off his stomach.

Nick keeps staring back at him, his eyes big and wild and Harry can't tell if it's fear or desperation, but he's never felt this far away from Nick, not in all the four years they have been dating. It makes his heart ache and his stomach lurch. It hits him so violently, so suddenly that he can't help but let out a tiny sob.

The thought of Nick leaving and Harry being left alone flashes through Harry's body and his brain blacks out for a moment, his knees getting wobbly underneath him. He blinks hard but he can't see clearly, his breath coming out in erratic huffs as he stumbles for a moment, before strong hands come to rest around his elbows, steadying him and guiding him down onto the couch.

The next couple of minutes are a bit of a haze to Harry, but when blinks back against the suddenly too bright light in the living room, Nick is leaning over him, swiping his forehead with a wet cloth, a stroking his cheek soothingly.

“I'm sorry,” Harry croaks, feeling silent tears running down his temples and into his hair before Nick wipes them away gently. Harry isn't even sure what he's sorry for. The pregnancy, the close-to panic attack, anything really, if it gets Nick to forgive him and _never_ look at him again that way.

“Don't worry about it, babe,” Nick hums quietly and softly right next to Harry's ear. He leans back a bit to put the cloth down on the coffee table and then runs both hands down Harry's face carefully. “Don't worry about anything, yes? It's not good for the baby, I'm sure. Are you feeling better?”

Harry's breath hitches at the mention of the baby and Nick's eyes widen in concern right away.

“Nick,” Harry says, his voice barely more than a whisper, straining to sit up, but Nick pushes him back down into the cushions gently.

“Don't do this to me,” Nick says more sternly, slowly sliding into the look he had on his face before. Concern, worry, fear. Harry still can't place it accurately, but Nick's words are enough to let Harry know that he doesn't want the baby.

Nick doesn't want the baby. _Harry's_ baby.

Nick doesn't want Harry.

Nick doesn't-

“Stop it!” Nick says a bit louder than before, circling Harry's wrists with his hands and shaking them gently. “Stop it right now.”

“I can't just stop being pregnant, because you don't want-” His breath catches in his throat and he can't finish the sentence, he just can't. Nick loosens his grip around Harry wrists immediately and cradles his face close to his instead.

“No, baby, no,” he mumbles, pressing feathery light kisses to Harry's cheeks, only confusing him even more. ”Don't be ridiculous and don't _stop_ being pregnant. But please do stop not breathing, yea? Calm down a bit, breath with me.”

And Harry is so done with this whole day all he can do is gaze back at Nick's eyes and breath slowly as Nick keeps murmuring “in,” and “out,” for what feels like hours. He can feel his body calm, his fingers going lax from where they were gripping Nick's arms, sinking into the couch deeper and deeper.

“Don't leave me,” Harry says finally, quietly but still too loud and too broken for the silent room around them.

“I would never,” Nick says and Harry knows it's meant to be soft and sweet, but underneath it all Nick seems genuinely offended.

“I'm sorry,” Harry says and then repeats it twice more, just to be sure.

“Shut up,” is Nick's soft reply every single time, kissing Harry's jaw and stroking his cheeks. “If I conclude correctly I did have some part and creating this child, hm?” he interrupts their little argument after a while, quirking a small smile up at Harry.

“Of course!” Harry nearly shouts, because _of course_ it's Nick's child. There is no one else and Nick knows and by the way he smiles Harry knows he does, too. “It's not your fault, though,” he then adds after a while, softer and with a normal voice rather than starting a screaming match.

“ _Of course_ it's not my fault!” Nick exclaims back, looking honestly offended now. “It's my _achievement_. My doing. My best work, probably. Hopefully.” He's full on grinning now, placing his right hand softly on Harry's belly again, over his shirt. It takes Harry a moment to understand that Nick essentially just said that he likes Harry being pregnant. Or that he doesn't have a problem with it, at least. Just to be sure he asks: “So you don't hate me?”

The only reply he gets is Nick frowning at him for a very long moment and then rolling his eyes, mumbling how “ _stupid you are, seriously, what did they teach you a pop star school?_ ” before kissing Harry's lips gently. Harry can feel himself light up ridiculously as Nick pecks him again and again, before pulling back, rolling his eyes at him once more and then leaning down towards Harry's stomach.

He hesitates for a moment, looking back up at Harry with his hands hovering over the hem of Harry's shirt. When all he gets is a blinding smile in return, Nick can't help but grin as well as he rucks Harry's shirt up a good bit, to splay his hand over the soft skin of Harry's little bump. Nick strokes it gently, leaning in closer to press his lips just under Harry's navel.

“I can't believe I didn't notice it,” Nick mumbles, his breath hot against Harry's skin. Harry doesn't say anything for a while, just lets Nick rest his head against his stomach, the ear pressed to his skin, like he's trying to listen. Harry cards his fingers through Nick's hair carefully and the moment is calm, warm and absolutely perfect. Harry would love to stay like this forever, but all of the sudden Nick jumps and looks at Harry with wide eyes.

“You need to go see a doctor!” he shouts at him, placing both his hands over Harry's stomach protectively. “We need to make sure the baby is okay. Pregnancy shots, antenatal exercises, maternal clothes, we need to pack a hospital bag. And we don't have a nursery, Jesus Christ!”

“Nick!” Harry calls, cupping a hand around Nick's cheek to get him to focus again. Nick blinks into focus a few times, his eyes landing on Harry's, looking somewhat confused. “Now it's your turn to calm down, love,” Harry tells him, laughter bubbling up from his stomach. Nick mostly just keeps blinking at him, somewhat agreeing with a quiet hum.

“I already saw a doctor. In LA,” Harry tells Nick, rubbing his thumb soothingly over Nick's jaw. “Took a pregnancy test because I was feeling really sick in the mornings. Test was positive and Lou dragged me to a doc right away.” He smiles weakly as he talks and Nick just nods along.

“What did they say?”

“Said I'm good, the baby's good. Healthy and happy, for the most part,” Harry says with a shrug and Nick frowns.

“For all parts, from now on, I shall hope,” he puts in, caressing the skin on Harry's stomach absentmindedly, moving his face closer to Harry's. “How far along are you?”

“Thirteen weeks.”

“Jesus Christ, that's like halfway through already,” Nick exclaims, turning back into a frenzy. “We missed half of it!”

“Nick!” Harry laughs, pulling Nick down by the shoulders so they are both settled down next to each other on the couch, their legs tangling together naturally. “A Pregnancy for the human male is an average of 39 to 41 weeks long. And even you should know that 13 is nowhere near being half of 41.”

“I need an ' _what to expect when you're expecting_ ' kind of book,” is Nick's only reply. “Like, yesterday.”

Harry only giggles into Nick's neck, because there are so many things that need to be taken care of, but for now he's just happy to be back home with Nick by his side. With Nick not running away, leaving him behind or hating him. Everything so far went about as good as it possibly could have and Harry is insanely happy and relieved.

They lay in silence for a bit, Nick's hands still aimlessly running over Harry's stomach and softly pressing in squeezing his sides from time to time, making Harry's stomach flip flop in a way that's definitely not yet the baby kicking. Suddenly Nick's turning onto his side, looking up at Harry, with big eyes again, but this time it's not a frenzy but excitement.

“Do you know the gender yet? You can know at thirteen weeks, can't you?” he asks, biting his lip.

“Do you have a preference?” Harry asked amused, turning onto his side as well, pecking Nick's lips once.

“No of course not, and stop the smooching, just tell me what it is,” Nick huffs impatiently and Harry chuckles in the breath of air between them.

“I don't know yet. Told the doctor not to tell me,” he says, shrugging at Nick. “Wanted to find out together with you,” he adds quietly after a bit of a pause and he can see something that clearly reads _I love you_ in Nick's eyes.

“Sap,” Nick says, but it's not nagging at all, too soft with the way Nick's voice breaks halfway through the word and Harry chuckles at him again.

“I do have some sonogram pictures, though,” Harry puts in after a moment.

“What!” Nick exclaims, his eyes going wide. “You fucker. You have pictures of our baby and you're only telling me now? Seriously, are you even in your right mind? Where are they?” He jumps up to rummage through Harry's bags and Harry is left laughing on the couch, watching after his boyfriend, who is looking in all the wrong places.

“Come here,” Harry calls, sitting up on the couch, pulling his feet underneath his body and his wallet from his back pocket.

“In your wallet, of course, you sap. It's not even born yet,” Nick teases, but he's making grabby motions at the pictures, running into the coffee table before he stumbles onto the couch next to Harry, grabbing the blurry black and white picture from his hands. Nick studies the picture for a long moment before turning to frown up at Harry.

“It's all blurry, I can't see anything. If this is your insides, I think you're doing pregnancy all wrong,” he says, with his eyebrows raised like he knows shit about pregnancy.

“Well, I suppose I'll just put the pictures back into my wallet and they _won't_ go up on the fridge, then,” Harry says easily in reply. He has been with Nick way too long to not look right through his bullshit. Harry goes to take the pictures out of Nick's hands, but the older man just holds them out of reach, getting up.

“ _Fine_ ,” he huffs, marching off in the direction of the kitchen. “If you insist, we'll put them up. Jesus fucking Christ, pregnancy hormones!”

 

~

 

They go to see the doctor before the scheduled sixteen week check-up, because Nick simply can't stand “being the only fucking one in this relationship who hasn't seen our baby yet, and _no Harry_ , for the last time that grainy sonogram picture _doesn't count_!”.

So it's sometime during week fourteen when Nick comes to pick up Harry at the studio when Nick is done with his day and they drive across town to a pregnancy specialist.

“He's really great,” Nick ensures Harry on the drive there. “Tons of top ratings on the Internet.”

Which, yeah. The Internet is always _such_ a reliable source.

But the doctors turns out to be great and answers all of Nick's frantic questions before he takes them to a sonogram room and lets Nick watch as he checks up on the baby in Harry's stomach. Nick almost faints, which he will deny vehemently if anyone ever asks, when the doctor shows them the heart beat and face of their baby.

When they find out that they're expecting a girl Nick almost faints again, which this time Harry can understand, because with this tiny piece of information everything becomes a whole lot more real all the sudden.

A girl, a little girl. _Their_ little girl.

“She's gonna be a mess,” Nick says when they're in the car after their appointment, his initial happiness turning into unbearable worry soon enough. “No female authority figure. How are we gonna make it through the ' _all boys are dicks_ ' phase? We are both boys, Harry. She's gonna hate us!”

“I went through that phase, and I'm a boy myself,” Harry says with a shrug. It's not like he's exactly super duper calm about any of this, but since Nick has taken the role of the freaking out/close to mental break down soon-to-be-parent, Harry has to be the responsible one here.

“What about period talks? Sex talk? You'll certainly need to be doing that, I don't even know how all this hetero sex thing is working,” Nick spits, like it's the most disgusting thing he could possibly think of. Harry only gives him an unimpressed look.

“She might be lesbian,” he says, just to be difficult.

“Or she might be moving out before she even discovers her downstairs department, because we're such horrible parents.”

“Her _downstairs department_? Seriously, Nick?” Harry is looking at him with amused disbelieve in his eyes. “If she's going to be your daughter, I hope she'll learn a different word for her downstairs department.”

“What do you mean, _if_?”

“Don't know, don't care. Go buy me new trousers, these ones are suffocating the two people you love most in this world,” Harry rants on as he pops open the top button on his jeans. They're his loosest pair, but sitting down like this in the car is really uncomfortable regardless.

“Robbie Williams and the queen? Where?” Nick asks, turning his head like he's looking for someone.

“Shut the fuck up, no sex for you tonight,” Harry says with a motion of his hand that's supposed to be dismissive, but Nick only laughs.

“You have lost control over your body. There is no telling when you'll get horny, but when you do, you'll not be sulking alone on your room, just because you told me 'no sex tonight',” Nick laughs, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with Harry's. Harry lets him, but turns away nevertheless, huffing at him.

“I sound nothing like that,” he protests and Nick gives him a grin. “Tosser.”

“So are we stopping by the mall to get you new clothes, or what?” Nick asks, like Harry hasn't said a thing, already getting in the right lane to take a turn in the direction of the mall much rather than their apartment.

“I get new clothes and you get a book on how to shut the fuck up,” Harry huffs angrily, squeezing Nick's fingers tightly.

“Oh darling, no need to get saucy. But what am I saying, it's probably just the pregnancy hormones talking!” he finishes easily and Harry is grumbling next to him, punching out in the general direction of Nick and hits his thigh twice and once his arm. Nick is only laughing in reply, reaching out to try to catch Harry's flying fist while not wrecking the car.

“No hitting!” Nick tells him, like he's a child. “It's gonna make the baby's genes aggressive.”

“Well, no being a twat either, or else the baby is gonna have hating you in her genes,” Harry snaps back, but the power has left his voice at the thought of their daughter. Harry can feel Nick watching him from the corner of his eyes and he must see Harry go pliant and lax against the car seat, the look on his face probably drifting off into something dreamy and majorly embarrassing, but Nick doesn't say anything. He probably has a pretty good idea what Harry is thinking about right now and knows he'll get as good in return as he gives.

When they get to the mall Nick lets Harry drag him through a couple of stores, trying on trousers and a few loose shirts. They've been to four of Harry regular stores, still empty handed before Nick speaks up.

“Love,” he says, stopping Harry from walking into the Topshop they're stood in front of. “We've hit all of your favorite stores and, erm.” Nick doesn't quiet know how to sum up that Harry doesn't fit into extra large trousers anymore. His stomach is really starting to show. “I mean, there's special stores for maternity clothes, you know,” he finishes softly and well.

Great, now Harry looks like he's about to burst into tears.

“Wait, I'm not saying you're fat or anything,” Nick starts, holding Harry by the shoulders gently.

“ _Of course_ you're not saying I'm fat!” Harry bursts, breathing heavily and he's so angry all the sudden. Nick looks honestly taken aback and a little scared.

“No, honey. No. 'course not. I wasn't thinking, I- um,” he says hastily, and his face falls when Harry pulls out of his arms.

“Let's just go,” Harry huffs and marches off. He knows he isn't doing Nick right, but Jesus Christ. He's tried on clothes two sizes bigger than he normally wears and they were too small already and would have been by next week probably, so he didn't buy them. It's endlessly frustrating and right now it makes perfect sense to blame Nick and his penis for making Harry fat.

Nick catches up with Harry a few moments later, walking beside him quietly and at a distance that Harry estimates to be arm length. It makes him want to punch Nick, which might be why there is the distance in the first place. He growls and walks a bit faster, even though it's irrationally exhausting and it only makes him angrier.

He reaches a maternity store they have passed twice already and Harry gives Nick one last glare before walking inside and going further down towards the back where the men's clothes are kept. Nick keeps at a safe distance and doesn't talk which Harry doesn't know if it is because he is pissed off or just knows Harry is going to snap at him no matter what. Probably both.

It takes him a while but in the end he wins the battle against himself and just picks up a few things to try on, regardless of the elastic band sown into the front of the jeans or the extra layers of fabric in the shirts. Nick follows him quietly to the changing rooms and wordlessly takes Harry's jacket before he disappears to try on some clothes.

Harry takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. His anger and frustration is irrational. Knowing that only makes him more angry and frustrated. It's a vicious cycle.

He tries to shake off those thoughts and pulls off his jeans, trying to ignore the angry red marks the waistband left on his hips. He pulls on whatever pair is within reach and fucking hates that it fits so much more comfortably than his own pair. It's soft and stretchy, hugging the bump of his stomach with adjustable jersey material rather than the rigid jeans fabric. It's fucking perfect and Harry feels like crying.

He must make some kind of worrisome sound or maybe none at all for too long, because Nick is softly tugging on the curtain of the dressing room.

“You okay in there, Haz?” he mumbles carefully and it's really just the last straw on a day full of shit so Harry bursts into tears.

“Harry?” Nick asks, even more worried now, pushing the curtain to the side and stepping into the changing room quickly. “Don't cry, baby,” he shushes, pulling Harry to his front and tugging his face against his neck. He holds him tight and surrounds him wholly, just like Harry loves it.

Nick has been nothing but perfect and Harry has been a right shit.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbles, hiccuping through tears. “I'm so shit at being pregnant. I'm supposed to be radiating happiness. Source of new life and all that.”

“Don't be daft,” Nick tells him, running his hands down Harry's back and through his curls. He tugs on his hair for a bit and Harry feels more settled than he has felt in days. “You're supposed to have bad days. 's what they call the pregnancy hormones. Also, you just found out last week about this unplanned pregnancy. I think you're doing quite well.”

“I'm crying in a changing room,” Harry whines, pressing his lips closer to Nick's neck, unsure if his words are even audible.

“Doesn't matter, love. You're putting on a face like nothing happened for everybody else all the fucking time. You get up, go to work _and_ put up with a nervously wrecked boyfriend.”

“So do you.”

“Well, looks like we're both handling this pretty well then,” Nick says with half a shrug, like they have any idea of how they're possibly going to a _raise a child_. Oh god.

Harry can't help but laugh at that, wiping at the tears on his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt. Maybe Nick is right. They're far from perfect, but they're doing this the _NickandHarry_ way so it's bound to be a bumpy ride, but work out in the end somehow.

“Let's just grab a couple of these things and head home, I'm sure they'll fit. And then I'll make you whatever weird thing your body might crave and we'll cuddle on the couch for the rest of the day, okay?” Nick suggests, as he wipes away the last stray tear on Harry's cheeks. He's smiling softly down at him before leaning down and kissing a single slow kiss onto Harry's lips.

“I'll just take tea, thanks,” Harry says back and Nick shrugs with a nod.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

“Do I really have to put on my jeans again?” Harry asks then, already pushing the more comfortable trousers down his legs to pull his own pair of jeans back on.

“Leave the top buttons undone,” Nick suggests and Harry can't help but laughs when he looks at Nick's face and finds that he's completely serious. “You don't want our child to have a deformed face, just because you wouldn't stop wearing skinny jeans during your pregnancy, do you?” Nick accuses playfully and then bends down for Harry to tie his shoes and Harry refuses to say anything about it, because they've had this argument a million times already and it's only been a week (“It's tying my fucking shoes, Nicolas. Chill the fuck out!” - “It's still bending down. Do you want to _kill_ _your child_ tying your fucking shoes, Harry? Do you? I don't think so!”).

“I don't want our daughter deformed, killed, disabled or anything else bad happen to her,” Harry sighs as he lets Nick carry two pairs of trousers and a few shirts to the cash register. “But I also don't want you to treat me like a breakable object for the next twenty six weeks.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Nick says as their items are being scanned, the lady behind the register giving them a curious look. “You're not a breakable object. Our daughter however is. And you happened to live around her, so just consider it inconvenient.”

“Did you just call me being pregnant _inconvenient_?” Harry asks, blinking at Nick in disbelieve as he hands over his credit card. “Well, we're definitely not having sex tonight now.”

“I'm not even gonna comment on that,” Nick says with a sigh, thanks the lady who hands them their shopping bag and Harry his credit card.

“Don't get all huffy on me,” Harry says as they leave the store, Nick's one hand holding the shopping bag, the other one gently pressing into Harry's lower back, guiding him through the doors.

“You essentially just told that lady about our sex life. As soon as you get your brains back in order you'll realize that this was-” Nick stars huffing back, but stops when the first camera flashes.

“Of course,” Harry growls as more paparazzi show up and sinks a bit more back into Nick's hand.

“You're alright, babe,” Nick mumbles, giving the paps his well trained camera smile and holds the bag in his hands a little higher, to hide whatever might or might not be visible of Harry's baby bump. It's not blatantly obvious yet, but Harry usually is very skinny and the tiniest bit of a rumor always sets the press on a field day and just no. Not now.

“Get the fucking bag _down_ ,” Harry mumbles through his fake grin, but Nick doesn't seem to quite catch it, must think that Harry is complaining about it, because it is dangling right over his thighs, and doesn't move it away from where it's hanging right in front of his body.

Once they make it to the car and get inside Harry just turns to Nick, to yell.

“Are you fucking stupid? Why didn't you hold the maternity clothes bag a little higher? I haven't even told my mom yet!”

Okay, so maybe that wasn't all that well thought through on Nick part. He looks like he realizes that just now.

“I haven't told mine either,” he says, half angrily, half apologetically, but it really doesn't change a thing. Harry can feel his phone already vibrate in his pocket. So far only Louis besides him and Nick knows about the baby, so it can literally be anybody, willing to express their disappointment about not knowing yet.

Harry pulls out the phone and sees that it's Gemma calling. He growls and turns the screen so can see as well before giving him another angry glare and picking up the call.

“I had to find out through Twitter?!” Gemma shouts in his ear first thing after he picks up and by the way Nick's mouth twitches in sympathy Harry is sure even he heard it all the way across the car.

“Hey Gems,” he says carefully, but doesn't get out more before Nick holds up his own screen for Harry to see that his own parents are calling.

“Your fault,” Harry mouths.

“Dickface,” Nick says back before accepting the call.

 

~

 

After the news of Harry's pregnancy is released to the general public everything in his and Nick's life gets a million times more hectic. Phone calls from friends and family take up loads of their time and Harry's mum insists on coming down to London right away to see her only son with his baby belly in person. So his mum comes to visit and then he and Nick go to see Nick's parents over one weekend in late May. They have regular check ups with the doctor and get chased by photographers all the fucking time and Harry has no clue how Nick does it all while maintaining a healthy work ethic to get up 5:15 am every weekday to do the radio show before coming back home to see Harry.

The band has canceled mostly everything that was planned, which were only a few shows and some TV and radio appearances anyway, so Harry has time to relax. Which of course is only theory, because in reality he rarely has time to actually calm down enough to lay down for a while.

After weeks of endless 'no's he and Nick agree to appear on a single TV show and they make it through the interview rather gracefully, even with Harry's belly clearly showing now after twenty eight weeks. They show sonogram pictures up on the screen and the interviewers gushes about how perfect the baby looks, even though you can still barely tell what the baby will look like in the grainy black and white pictures.

It's some time after that when people start fighting over who will get to throw Harry's baby shower. Gemma calls him huffing angrily about how she read in some newspaper that Lou Teasdale is going to be the baby's godmother.

“Harry, I'm your _sister_!” she cries, the sound of something breaking in the background making Harry flinch.

“Come on, Gems,” Harry tries to calm her, because yeah, for once the newspapers are right. He did ask Lou to be the godmother and throw his baby shower, because after all he's the godfather to her daughter as well. He doesn't think that's anything Gemma wants to hear. “Listen, you can be the next baby's godmother. Or my best man slash brides maid?” he suggests as a peace offering and is too invested in the conversation to notice the wide eyed look Nick is giving the back of his head.

 

~

 

The baby shower is on a Saturday afternoon and Nick is fleeing the apartment by noon.

“I'm a grown man and I refuse to spend the day in a ridiculously pinkish decorated room only to chat about how cute our baby is going to be, which I already know for a fact.”

“Nick!” Harry exclaims angrily, kicking a few rose colored balloons to the side to waddle over to where Nick is standing by the door. “I'm a grown man and I will be here!”

“You're my _baby_. Also, you carry my baby and you love me, which means you can't be angry with me for too long for skipping out on your baby shower, okay bye.” He pecks Harry's temple quickly, gives him an apologetic grin and the runs out the door.

“I fucking hate you!” Harry calls after him, just as the door falls shut. Lou is snickering at him from the other side of the room where she is hanging up garlands and Harry only growls at her. “I fucking hate him,” he repeats for good measure, vaguely gesturing towards the door.

“No you don't,” Lou disagrees with a smile. “Now come, help me finish set everything up and then we'll start eating the cake before everyone else arrives.” Harry would really like to say no to that, but his body has cravings he cannot control and so sits down and folds twenty table napkins into vaguely baby shaped figures.

The baby shower turns out to be a full success and all the boys from the band turn up with girlfriends in tow and some friends of Nick who are not the tiniest bit surprised that he took the fastest way out. They chat and laugh and Lou arranges a variety of games for them to play. They eat cake and drink non-alcohol champagne, so Harry can drink with them and it's all just a really great time.

That is, until Liam breaks out the questions of all questions.

“So, what are you gonna name her?” he wants to know and it's like everyone's eyes are Harry immediately.

“Uh, we haven't decided yet,” he says in favor of admitting that he and Nick haven't even really talked about it yet. Harry has thought about it before, sure, and Nick tried talking about it before, but it was one of Harry's bad days and he proceeded throwing a mug after Nick (which shattered on the floor and made Harry cry for a full ten minutes for no obvious reason, thank you hormones) and after that Nick never really tried talking about it again.

“So what's on the shortlist, then?” Niall inquires. He probably just wants the girl to be named _Nialla_ or something, Harry thinks.

“Uhm, Laura?” Harry tries, because there is no shortlist. Not any list at all.

“Laura,” Liam repeats and raises his eyebrows. He casts a look at Niall and then at Lou behind Harry, shaking his head slowly.

“We should make a list, you know,” Lou suggests easily, stepping around Harry. “Just in case you want any other names to choose from, yeah?”

Harry doesn't really know what to say, but all the others nod enthusiastly and spend the rest pf the afternoon making a three pages long list, so it's probably not going to be Laura.

 

~

 

On Tuesday after the baby shower Harry is sitting on the couch watching some trash daytime TV show when Nick returns to the flat after work. He toes off his shoes and climbs onto the couch next to Harry, bending down to peck his lips and then kiss his belly.

“Hello Harry,” he says. “Hello baby.”

“Hey,” Harry murmurs in return, turning down the volume of the TV, to twist into Nick's embrace instead. “How was work?”

“Alright,” Nick mumbles back absentmindedly, pressing another kiss to Harry's forehead. “Took out the trash before I went to work,” he says after a pause and the corners of Harry's mouth quirk up bemusedly.

“Good work, big boy. Do you expect a treat?” he teases and Nick rolls his eyes at him.

“I found a list of baby names in there.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry says, looking down at his fingers. The list the others had written on Saturday. It had been a right laugh then, but Harry really wasn't going to go through the list with Nick seriously. “It's from the baby shower, um. Turns out we're a bit late with the name picking?”

“We still have, like, seven or eight weeks,” Nick says carefully, like he's afraid mugs will be flying.

“We could talk about it now,” Harry says back, just as carefully. He's not exactly scared Nick might start throwing mugs, but after Saturday he realized that maybe this is a bigger thing than he expected it to be.

“Okay,” Nick says, shuffling on the couch to get in a more comfortable position. He arranges his legs around Harry's and pulls him a bit closer, so he's in his lap. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“I don't know,” Harry shrugs. “I want it to be special, but like- Not in the celebrity child name kind of way? Nothing's that gonna make her hate us all her life.”

“Like North West?” Nick asks with a chuckle.

“Exactly!” Harry agrees, grinning himself. “Horrific.”

Nick hums in agreement, fingers splayed over Harry's stomach. He tugs on the fabric carefully and waits for Harry to nod in reply before he pulls up the shirt to reveal the skin. Since the baby started actually kicking hard enough for Nick to feel from the outside a couple of weeks ago he has been obsessed with having his fingers splayed across Harry's stomach at all possible times, as to not miss his daughter move. Ever.

She is calm now though, as she always is when Harry is watching TV or listening to the radio. Harry has a horrible feeling that she is going to love Nick a whole lot more than him when she finds out that Nick is on the radio. And sometimes the TV, too.

“She awake?” Nick wants to know, leaning down to press his ear to Harry's stomach. Harry is still bemused by Nick's constant need to _listen_ , like he hasn't read in a million pregnancy preparation books that you can't actually hear the baby from the outside.

“Think so,” Harry mumbles back, pressing his own hand against the side of his belly, where his little girl was wiggling around the tiniest bit several minutes ago. “She likes the TV though.”

“Hm. We should call her TV,” Nick suggests and Harry is close to kicking him himself.

“We should call you idiot.”

“You already do all the time, love. I can't wait for your hormone balance to be normal again.”

“Fuck off and just pick a freaking name,” Harry says with little force behind his words.

“She can hear us now, can't she? We should stop swearing, probably.”

“Just pick a name, Jesus Christ!” Harry sighs, rolling his eyes at Nick. Good thing they started now, or they might not get around to picking an actual name in the next two months.

“I like Elaine,” Nick says, propping his head into his hand.

“I don't like it.”

“You just say that to be difficult.”

“I really don't like it,” Harry replies, scrunching up his nose. “Give me other options.”

“Why didn't you just keep the list?”

“Nick!”

“Okay, fine,” Nick sighs, sticking out his tongue at Harry. “Let's see.. Nora? Tabitha? Jade?”

“No,” Harry grumbles, stroking over his stomach and along Nick's hands that are still resting there. “Weird names. I like Kacey. Or Kima.”

“ _Those_ are weird names!” Nick replies, thumb circling Harry's navel. “What about Mia? Or Olivia? Lilly? Or Rose?”

“I don't want my child named after a flower,” Harry protests and Nick laughs.

“Could be a double name. Like Ellie Rose, or something. You could just call her Ellie and ignore that her name is also a flower,” he suggests still laughing and Harry is smiling at him.

“I like it,” he says slowly and Nick blinks up at him.

“Seriously?”

“Ellie Rose, yeah.” Harry nods along as he says it, poking his stomach. “Do you like it, little bug?” he asks his stomach, poking it lightly on the spot the baby likes to kick the most. Nick runs his hand over there as well, but she doesn't respond.

“She doesn't like it,” Nick concludes with a frown.

“Well, she'll have to like whatever we pick. But we can think about other options. Maybe she'll react to something.”

They keep talking about baby names, eventually running out of ideas until Nick pulls up a baby name generator on his phone which spits out the most ridiculous baby names.

“Layla Kya Tilly-Mae Temperance,” Nick reads out, chuckling to himself, but the baby certainly doesn't like it. She kicks Harry hard enough for him to wonder for a moment if it was possibly actually the baby kicking this hard.

“She doesn't like it,” he says right away, rubbing over his stomach in circles to try to get her to calm down. Nick's hand is by his right away, pressing into the tiny baby kicks.

“Hey baby,” he murmurs, bending down to press a kiss onto the stomach. “We're picking your name. Do you like Rose? Harry doesn't like it, but I do. Ellie Rose, yeah? That could be your name.”

She kicks again. Particularly hard.

“She doesn't like that either,” Harry says, feeling a bit out of his depth. “God she's kicking hard.”

“She's not in her right mind, aren't you Ellie Rose?” Nick asks again, but the baby doesn't stop kicking.

“Nick,” Harry growls angrily, trying to get him to stop talking and they're certainly not done with the conversation, because the baby seems to not like the name. But Nick is just rubbing a hand over his stomach soothingly, turning the volume of the TV up again.

 

~

 

Somehow Nick must have misunderstood something, because he tells everyone their baby's name is Ellie Rose. Harry frowns and tries to talk against it, but. Everyone likes the name and Harry actually really like the name, so okay. The baby will have to deal with it. Ellie Rose will have to deal with it.

And maybe it was also just phase or maybe her ears weren't working quite right, because now Nick is calling her by her name all the time and she responds rather pleasantly.

Harry is at thirty eight weeks and fatter than ever, barely able to get out of bed himself. Their hospital bag is packed and Nick is sleeping with one eye open, because the midwife told them early babies aren't uncommon with male pregnancies. Nick's unnerving behavior is what's most unsettling about the thought of giving birth Harry keeps saying, which is a lie of course, but it riles Nick up in the best ways and gets him to shut up every now and then.

In the last weeks Nick's shiftiness has become worse and he is fiddly and nervous all the time, but Harry puts it off as pre-birth anxiousness. On a particular Sunday night Nick behavior reaches a new high, when Harry complains about cramps and crawls into bed early, demanding Nick to bring him tea.

As the good boyfriend that he is, Nick does as Harry says and brings a hot water bag as well, for Harry's bag and then sits on the edge of their bed, rubbing his stomach.

“She's having a dance party,” Harry says, exhaustion lacing through his voice.

“Didn't even invite me,” Nick murmurs back, but it's halfheartedly. Harry sets down his tea to wrap his fingers around Nick's wrist, pressing his thumb into the soft skin.

“What's wrong, love?” he asks, trying to pull Nick down next to him, but Nick doesn't go. Harry doesn't like the fleeting feeling of panic that settles into his chest.

“Um,” Nick starts eloquently, biting his bottom lip. He isn't looking at Harry, staring down at Harry's baby belly instead, carefully placing a hand on top of it. “I eh. There's something we should talk about.”

“Okay,” Harry says slowly, trying to not think of the worst. He's a week and a half away from his due date and judging from the feeling in his stomach the baby is coming sooner rather than later and he really can't deal with whatever shit Nick might throw at him.

“Um, I was thinking for Ellie.. You know, she should have two real parents who are like, together together? I don't know, that was a shit opening. I should have done this sooner, now it's shit. Anyway,” Nick rambles, circling his finger nervously on Harry's aching stomach. “We should get married, like. We should have two years ago, but now it's really time and just. I'm shit at this, surprise. Um. Will you just marry me? Please.”

Harry only stares for a moment as Nick fiddles out a box with a ring and manages a half nervous smile. Naturally, that's when Harry's water breaks.

 

~

 

Nineteen hours later Harry is sat in a hospital bed, a freshly washed and swaddled Ellie Rose in his arms and a tired and exhausted looking fiance next to him in bed. Harry is nearly asleep himself, absolutely drained from being in labor for the longest fifteen hours of his life, but he has a perfectly healthy and happily sleeping baby in his arms, so there's nothing more important than that right now.

Nick made calls from the hospital when they got there and then again when Harry and Ellie were back together in the hospital room. Nick parents announced themselves for the late afternoon and Harry's mum is on her way already, picking up Gemma on the way somewhere in London. They should be getting there in the next half hour if Nick's estimate is correct.

They take a little longer, but when they do get there, Nick is fast asleep next to Harry, his arm protectively thrown over Harry's middle. Ellie is asleep too, in Harry's arm, snuffling closer into his chest every once in a while. It might just be the happiest moment in Harry's life.

When his mum and Gemma come in they have to suppress their shrieks as to not wake the two sleeping figures, kissing Harry's head and congratulating him with quietly tamed excitement. His mum is glowing and so is Gemma, as Harry lets her cradle the baby against her chest, kissing her head softly.

“Hey little Ellie, who's gonna be your favorite aunt?” she singsongs, rocking here back and forth carefully.

“He must be so exhausted,” Harry's mum comments, looking over at Nick nest to Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, because Nick has been nothing but great for nine whole months. “He asked me to marry him, too, you know,” he adds then, holding but his hand with the ring tiredly. His mum certainly can't refrain from shrieking this time and Gemma nearly drops the baby, screaming “What!”, definitely waking Nick.

One battle at a time, Harry thinks. _One battle at a time_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well?  
> How did that go, you think? You like?
> 
> Leave a comment to become my new best friend and secret lover!
> 
> [and yes, i _had to_ squeeze a proposal in there somewhere, you know me]


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